


For the Life You Gave Me

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: I Take Pride in What I Am 2020 [8]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Grief/Mourning, Love, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Silver didn't have many happy memories of his second 'life', holding Gray and being able to tell his son how proud he was of him was one. The other was a fleeting memory of a chance encounter, two lonely souls meeting and coming together, of the one other person he needed to say farewell to before he moved on.
Relationships: Gildarts Clive/Silver Fullbuster
Series: I Take Pride in What I Am 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771147
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: I Take Pride in What I Am 2020





	For the Life You Gave Me

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that if you want to talk to me about my fics and writing, or anime/shows/games in general then you can now find me on discord [The Unholy Trinity](https://discord.gg/6sSddAWa5c).

Silver barely remembered the first time he’d died, something he counted as a blessing. He knew that it had been quick, little more than a split second to realise that this was over, to think about the woman pressed against his side as they tried in vain to hide from their fate, about their son. A whispered prayer on his lips that Gray at least might survive this and then nothing…

His second death was slower, his body beginning to fade away as the curse binding him to ‘life’ released it’s painful, clawing hold on his soul, on the construct he had been forced to live in. It hurt, not sharp, but an ache that throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the cruel façade of life he’d been given still hammering in his ears, as he held his son, and tried to claw back an extra minute. A second longer just to hold the man his son had become in his absence, the child in his memories there in the quivering sobs, the tears that fell, pure and cold between them.

_His son._

Last time, all he had was terror and the desperate hope that Gray might survive, now he knew that his son – his beautiful, strong, angry son – would live on, and all he had was regret. Not that Gray was alive, but that he hadn’t been there for him, that he had let his son believe he was dead until it was too late even if he wouldn’t change that decision, and that he was going to leave him behind again. Leave him grieving, knowing how much time they’d missed, and with a burden that would weigh heavier than his death, and his arms tightened, even as he began to disintegrate and fade. “You became a good man Gray,” he whispered, a final desperate attempt to tell his son how much he meant to him, to them, he amended thinking of Mika waiting for him on the other side. “You’re our pride and joy.” _And I wish I’d had a lifetime to tell you that…_

He couldn’t feel Gray anymore, dispersing to the wind, as Gray’s sobs and words echoed in the air behind. A memory he would cling to as long as he was able, a precious moment snatched from the world that had taken so much from them.

With the fleeting seconds he had left, he bared his soul, hating himself a little more as he told Gray his greatest secret, the burden that he was leaving him. Proud, and hurting when Gray welcomed his power, his burden, sealing it with a promise. There was power in those words that tingled across his skin, a last moment of sensation, and then he was gone, Gray’s voice and presence fading away behind him. His son alone once more, and even though there was a distant joy at the thought of seeing Mika again, it was mated.

_I’m sorry Gray…_

**

He drifted for a time after that, not sure how to find his way. He’d tried to make that journey once, and even now, disembodied and floating on the currents of magic across Fiore he shivered at the memory of the curse that had snatched him back to life. Perhaps it was fear stopping, the kind that burrowed deep until it was more instinct than anything, even as part of him longed for it to be over, to see the other side. Or, maybe it was that last sight of his son, tears on his cheeks, but standing tall, resolved and cursed with a burden that Silver wished he could have taken to the grave with him.

Time passed. It could have been days or weeks, but still, he drifted. It was a strange existence. There was no sensation, nothing to distract him from the lingering memory of finally holding his son his arms once more. He did, however, catch fleeting glimpses of the world. Enough to tell him that Fairy Tail had triumphed over Tartarus against the odds, the magic around him, buoying him as strong as ever. He saw the world that he had seen so little of, that he had once dreamed of showing to Gray, remembering all the grand plans for the three of them to travel once he had been a little older. Dreams that had turned to snow and ash along with them, but which Gray had carried with him, and made his own.

He wasn’t sure if it was the magic, or his own memory, a longing that even he hadn’t been aware of that finally pulled him down to Earth. Still ethereal, not alive, but not gone as he had found himself in a small town outside what appeared to be a bar.

It took him a moment to place it, the memories of his life already faded and distant. But this one was brighter, etched into his skin, his soul, not in the same way as Gray and Mika, but more than any other. The one time he had allowed himself to be human despite the necromancy keeping him tied to the world.

_He had been tired, he was always tired these days, as though his body – this construct, he refused to think of it as a body, as belonging to him because that would mean accepting what he was – had to fight twice as hard just to exist like a normal person. Tonight, though it was worse than usual, months of failed searches, the one goal that belonged solely to him as far away as ever, as he danced on the strings of his ‘master’ piling up on him. It ran deeper than that. Grief needled his every moment because he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be with Mika, and he had left her alone, and all he could do was hope that she was at peace and that she hadn’t been forced to see what had become of him. He was supposed to be with his son, the stranger, fully-grown and greater than Silver could have ever imagined._

_He was alone and lonely with it for the first time. It had been easier, safer to hold the world at bay. He wouldn’t give them more weapons to use against him, but tonight as the rain pounded on his hunched form, the bar had been like a siren song. It had promised warmth and company, and a tantalising glimpse of life, and despite the small voice that had whispered that this was a terrible idea he had slipped inside._

_Food and drink, neither really required – that had been one of the first things he had tested – had given him the illusion of life, leaving a warmth in his belly, and a flush in his cheeks as he sat at the bar. Apart from everyone else but watching. Eyes lingering on a dark-haired woman that for a passing second had made him think of Mika before she’d turned, and he’d been confronted with the face of a stranger. There was a card game in the corner threatening to turn into a brawl, couples hiding in half-lit booths, weary travellers hunched over the dredges of their meals, a few girls chancing their luck. He felt as though he was pressing up against a window, watching from a distant, able to admire the life, the warmth, but unable to reach out and touch it._

_This had been a mistake._

_A sharp, painful reminder of what he couldn’t have. A weakness he couldn’t afford, and he was about to rise and leave, preferring to face the elements over the warmth of this world he didn’t belong in when a fresh tankard of ale appeared at his elbow. He blinked, magic stirring in case it was a threat and lifted his head to study the man that had just slipped onto the stool beside him. Rain-slicked ginger-red hair hung around a handsome face, and there was a good growth of stubble across his chin and cheeks that spoke of a long time on the road, and yet suited him well. Blue-green eyes met his appraising gaze, running over him in turn, and Silver wondered for a moment what he saw. Did he see the broken man? The ghost of a man who should be dead? Did he see the strings that tied him to this life?_

_“You look as though you could use that?” The voice was mellower than he’d expected, and it took him a moment to realise the man was addressing him and tilting his head at the tankard. Silver flushed, and reached for the tankard, lifting it to take a sip and try to gather himself._

_“Thank you….” He trailed off, hoping the man would get the hint. Had human interactions always felt so strange? He wasn’t sure anymore, although he could remember laughing and joking at the local bar, of dancing freely at the winter and summer solstices. But that had been then, and this was now, and life was something he no longer understood. Mercifully his unexpected companion caught the cue, eyes crinkling as he smiled, which was far too distracting for Silver’s liking._

_“Gildarts,” he replied. “Gildarts Clive, and you?” He lifted an eyebrow, and Silver wanted to hate him for making it so easy, even as his eyes widened a little. He recognised that name, and he fought the urge to look for the guild mark, for the tenuous link to the son he couldn’t see._

_“Silver F…” He hesitated, catching himself at the last moment. As much as he wanted to scream to the world that he was Gray’s father, he couldn’t, and he shook his head. “It’s just Silver.” It hurt to say, and Gildarts had turned to face him, studying him intently and Silver prayed that his expression wasn’t showing the storm in his thoughts._

_“Well, Just Silver…” Gildarts grinned, taking any possible sting out of his words. “What brings you to this charming establishment?” As though they had been waiting for his words, the card game finally erupted into a brawl as the table was flipped over and the dealer found himself on the floor being pummelled. At the same time, the other players turned on one another with a unison that Silver almost admired. Instead, he snorted at Gildarts words, scooted his stool closer to the bar – and incidentally Gildarts, and cradled his drink protectively._

_“Just lucky,” he replied, startled when Gildarts snorted at his words, staring at him. How long had it been since he’d made someone laugh? Tartarus wasn’t given to easy laughter, let alone around him, and yet Gildarts was still chuckling as he sipped his own drink, and Silver found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Suddenly desperate to keep the conversation going, to maintain this contact, this human contact no matter how brief it might be. “And yourself?”_

_“Very lucky,” Gildarts said with a grin, that promised many things, and Silver felt warmer than he had in a long time, and it was almost too much, forcing him to glance away for a moment. “I’ve been camping out mainly, but it gets lonely.” There was something in his voice that made Silver look up, grief calling to grief, one lonely man talking to another, and he released a shaky breath and took a chance._

_“It does.” For a moment he’d thought that he’d misjudged, that he had said the wrong thing because Gildarts was studying him, grin fading a little, expression intense. Then the grin reappeared, softer still, inviting and Silver was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, chasing the promise of something he didn’t fully understand._

_He didn’t protest when Gildarts ordered a couple of bottles, couldn’t speak when the other man had asked him almost sheepishly if he’d already booked a room. He hadn’t, as he hadn’t been sure how he would handle being around people, and he was grateful for it when Gildarts smiled. “My place then.” So easy, so casual, as they were more than two strangers brought together by luck and loneliness. Silver hadn’t replied, but he’d followed wordlessly as Gildarts had led him upstairs, wondering what he was doing, and yet unable to resist the siren song of promise in each word and action._

_I don’t want to be alone, even if it’s just for one night…_

Silver drifted closer to the bar. It had changed little since that night, a little more weather-worn, a little grimier. It was hard to imagine that his building held his happiest memory of his second life, aside from holding Gray in his arms again.

His memory of that night was blurry, and not just because of his fading grip on the memories of his life. They had been two lonely souls, and there had been more than a little alcohol involved especially with him, as it had scared him much, he had wanted that connection. Needed it, in a way that he had promised himself he would never need again, only to be betrayed by a lonely heart, and the warmth kindled by Gildarts’ grin and lingering gaze. What he could and did remember was the precious gift that the other man had given him that night.

_Silver was tipsy and closing in on drunk, almost surprised to discover that his body – the construct – could get intoxicated, and he was warm in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time, and he almost felt alive as he looked up as Gildarts moved towards him. At some point, the other man had shed his cloak, granting Silver a full view of the damage that had been hidden from sight, a body that had come close to death but survived. It hurt to see, something more than what he had, and yet beneath that he couldn’t help but think that maybe just maybe Gildarts would understand what he was, what had been done to him. He wouldn’t say it, of course, that secret – like the one about who he really was, who Gray was – locked deep, but the feeling was there as golden warmth pooled between them._

_He wanted; he wasn’t sure what he wanted…_

_“Silver?” There was a wealth of meaning in that single word, too much for him to make sense of, and he couldn’t move or speak. It was too much for a man adrift in his own life, his own body. He wasn’t sure what his expression had shown at that moment, but Gildarts hesitated for a moment before moving to crouch in front of him, reaching up to brush metal fingers against his chin. It should have felt cold, not because of the metal, but because every touch had left Silver cold up until now, his body rejecting any prospect of comfort, instead it was warm. Alive. And he leant into it with a small noise, desperate for more, chasing the sensation he had thought lost to him but not knowing how to ask for it._

_Gildarts was watching him though, head tilted slightly, and he lightly stroked Silver’s cheek again, drawing another soft noise from him and smiling, before moving his fingers to rest on Silver’s lips. It wasn’t a kiss, and yet at that moment it felt a thousand times more intimate, and Silver let out a ragged breath and pressed into the touch. “Can I?” Gildarts asked, and Silver knew what he was asking, what the golden warmth so similar and so different to the fingers pressed to his lips. It terrified him, it called to him. He wanted it so much that he felt he might splinter without it, and yet at the same time, he was scared that it would be his undoing that this body, this construct wouldn’t be able to hold it all._

_Maybe it was desperation and loneliness. Perhaps it was hope that for once he would feel something real, something warm and alive. Or, perhaps it was the unspoken hope that this body would fall apart and free his soul, but he nodded. He didn’t trust his voice right then, something that felt like a sob rising in his throat, but he held Gildarts’ searching gaze without faltering. Permission and plea wrapped together and then the fingers against his lips were replaced by something softer, something warmer, a searing heat that had his heart pounding as he realised Gildarts was kissing him._

He could feel the echo of that kiss now, and the fleeting after-image of what had followed. Gildarts had consumed him that night, seen every part of him, and breathed life into him. That night, that beautiful, fleeting night in the arms of a man who could have been his enemy, but instead had been his saviour, had been the one time that his body had felt as though it belonged to him. Each touch, each kiss had pressed warmth into his skin. The scars. The marks of the death he had been denied, had been worshipped without judgement, traced with gentle fingers and gentler lips. Humanising him. Connecting him.

A gift that Silver hadn’t deserved.

He was hesitating at the threshold now, regret weighing him down. He had fled the next morning, leaving Gildarts asleep on the bed. He’d left the other man with nothing but a name and a memory, fleeing with his own memories and a fleeting impression of life written across his skin. He’d treasured that night, savoured it. It had been his shield, his beacon against the darkness around him, against the monster he was being made to be. A reminder that even like this, as broken and twisted as he was, there was still a spark of humanity somewhere deep inside him. How many times had he thought about coming back here? How often had he dreamt of more minutes of warmth? Or wondered what Gildarts would have done or said if he’d known who and what Silver really was?

Too many.

A lifetime built around a moment. It was different from the life and love he’d shared with Mika, but no less powerful, because the gift Gildarts had given him that night had kept him sane and fighting. Had allowed him to hold on long enough to see his son.

He’d been relieved he realised now that Gildarts hadn’t been there in that fight. Facing Gray had been one thing, but he wasn’t sure he could have confronted the man who had made him alive if only for a single night, but as he stared at the door, he realised that he didn’t want to leave it unfinished. He’d said what he could to Gray, had passed on the mission that had driven him for so long, all that remained was… understanding warred with hope and fear, as he realised why he was still here, what was keeping him anchored in this world.

Gildarts.

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to step forward and slip into the building, the door no obstacle to him in this form. The interior was exactly as it had been, and for a moment he was lost in that night all over again. So much had changed, and nothing had changed, including the dark-cloaked figure sat at the bar, a line of glasses set out in front of him, and Silver’s breath would have caught of he’d still been able to breathe. _It can’t be,_ and yet it was, he knew it with the same certainty that he knew that this, and the man in front of him was his last ties to this life. He moved forward like one caught in a dream, not sure what he was going to do or say, not sure that there was anything to be said.

Instinct or memory perhaps guided him to the stool beside Gildarts, the same stools they’d sat on so long ago. It felt like coming home, and he was torn between laughter and weeping when a tankard appeared in front of him, and it took him a moment to realise that Gildarts wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the other man was staring into his own drink, an oddly longing expression on his face.

Waiting.

He was waiting, Silver realised, not sure what to call the emotion that rose in his chest at that realisation.

 _How long?_ He wondered. _How many times has he sat here?_ He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the answer, not sure what it would do to the treasured memory in his heart. But it couldn’t go unanswered, and he stared down at the tankard, a gift to the ghost in Gildarts memory, and he gathered himself, knowing that this was going to be his final act in this world. A farewell without words, because he had no voice with which to reach the other man, his last words for Gray. Magic stirred, gathering around him, and he felt warm again. As warm and alive as he had that night underneath Gildarts’ touch, and he curled fleetingly corporeal fingers around the tankard and lifted it in a silent toast, and beside him, Gildarts twisted in his seat, wide-eyed, braced for an attack and their eyes met over the tankard and in that moment Silver knew that the other man could see him.

A final gift from the universe that had cursed him so many times.

He smiled at Gildarts, smiled as he hadn’t been able to that night, setting the tankard down once more and reaching out with already fading fingers to brush against Gildarts cheek. A mirror of the touch that had started everything, and he wasn’t sure who had sobbed, a desperate choked noise. “Silver…” Gildarts breathed, and Silver nodded, fingers curling, savouring the warmth even as he continued to fade. It was different than when he’d left Gray, more final, the final ties coming undone, and all he could do was hold Gildarts’ gaze and mouth the words he didn’t have the voice to say.

_I’m sorry._

_Thank you._

_Farewell…_


End file.
